


The undone and the divine

by justhockey



Category: 9-1-1 (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Different First Meeting, Angst with a Happy Ending, Bisexual Evan "Buck" Buckley, Catholic Guilt, Eddie is a soldier, Falling In Love, First Kiss, Fluff and Angst, Friends to Lovers, Getting Together, Insecure Evan "Buck" Buckley, Internalized Homophobia, Long-Distance Friendship, Long-Distance Relationship, M/M, Mutual Pining, Not Actually Unrequited Love, Protective Eddie Diaz (9-1-1 TV), Religion, Religious Guilt
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-02
Updated: 2021-02-02
Packaged: 2021-03-13 03:35:39
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 12,635
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29146782
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/justhockey/pseuds/justhockey
Summary: He hasn’t set foot inside a church since he left home and never looked back.It feels like a lie, now. To walk inside such a hollow building and have his trauma fill every open space until there’s no room left for Buck to breathe. He feels like a fraud for being here, like everyone who sees him will know he doesn’t belong.
Relationships: Evan "Buck" Buckley/Eddie Diaz (9-1-1 TV)
Comments: 38
Kudos: 280





	The undone and the divine

**Author's Note:**

> Title from _Bedroom Hymns_ by Florence + The Machine. 
> 
> Disclaimer: I am not religious and know next to nothing about Catholicism. This doesn’t reflect my personal views on the religion, and I don’t wish to offend anyone, it’s just a made up experience of a fictional character, and in no way represents real life. 
> 
> Content warning in end notes.

Buck hasn’t prayed since he was a teenager, when his parents would drag him along to Sunday mass every single week. He would pray for Maddie to come home, or his parents to be different, or for God to change Buck into the kind of child his parents wanted. None of his prayers were ever answered. 

He hasn’t set foot inside a church since he left home and never looked back. There’s too much shame and shunning in Catholicism - so much so, that it’s built into the very walls of every church, that it lives inside the mouths of every priest who would preach love and hate in the same breath. And it would seep into Buck every time he stepped inside - would make him feel small, and guilty, and dirty, for how big his heart was and who it wanted to love. 

It feels like a lie, now. To walk inside such a hollow building and have his trauma fill every open space until there’s no room left for Buck to breathe. He feels like a fraud for being here, like everyone who sees him will know he doesn’t belong. 

But he’s wearing his uniform as armour, and there isn’t a service on yet anyway. In fact, there’s only one other person inside, sitting so close to the front that Buck can’t even make out it it’s a man or woman. So he treads quietly - the years of tiptoeing around his own home coming in handy - and picks somewhere to sit. 

Old habits die hard, he figures. Because while he doesn’t sit at the very back, he only sits a couple pews further forward. Buck remembers those first few months after he realised he thought boys were just as pretty as girls. He remembers trying to sit at the very back like maybe God wouldn’t be able to see him there, and he remembers his dad telling him that only those with something to hide sit at the back. 

The memory makes his limbs feel heavy as he sits and bows his head. He’s out of practice, after years of running from this, but he figures the most important thing is that he’s here at all. And the only reason he _is_ here is Maddie. Maddie and Chim, and their sweet little baby that’s on the way. 

Maddie would probably laugh at him for coming here. She resents the church almost as much as Buck does, hates it for what it made their parents do to him. But he just can’t explain it, why he needed to come here. He doesn’t even understand himself, not really. 

It’s just that, she’s having a _baby,_ and she’s safe and happy, and Buck wants so much for things to stay good for her. So even if he and God aren’t exactly on great terms, Buck figures He’s the man to talk to about keeping Maddie and the baby healthy and happy. 

He thinks maybe he’s forgotten how to talk to God, so he just closes his eyes and clasps his hands together, and hopes that He can feel exactly what Buck is asking of him. 

If He’s real at all, that is. Because Buck still isn’t even sure on that front. He can’t decide if he doesn’t believe in God at all, or if he doesn’t believe in the God his parents forced on him, or if he believes in something but not _this._

He doesn’t know. He just knows that he spent eighteen years of his life praying for people’s strength, and happiness, and health. So he’s just covering all bases, here. Just doing whatever he needs to do for Maddie. 

Buck can’t stay for long though. His skin starts to itch and the collar of his shirt feels like it’s too tight around his neck, and he needs to leave. Now. So he gets up and walks out - can hear the vague echo of his dad’s voice, telling him God only helps those who live in His image, but he ignores it. 

There’s someone in the entrance hall when Buck finally makes it out, breathless and clammy, and hands trembling embarrassingly. It’s a little old lady sitting behind a table, with leaflets spread out in front of her and a sign that reads _A Million Thanks._

He’s just trying to catch his breath, really, wants his head to stop spinning before he heads back to his truck. But she notices him looking and smiles, beckoning him over. 

“You interested, sweetheart?” She asks. 

“What is it?” Buck asks, instead of saying no like he wants to. 

She hands him a leaflet then, and his hands still haven’t stopped shaking when he reaches out to take it. 

He almost laughs when he reads it, because it’s exactly the kind of thing his parents made him and Maddie do when they were kids. A programme that connects civilians with active service members - lets you send them emails or care packages so they don’t feel so lonely while overseas. Personally, Buck thinks a letter from a stranger will do absolutely nothing to help. But, who’s he to question it. 

“Oh, I don’t think-“ he begins to say, before he’s quickly interrupted. 

“It’s ever so appreciated, you know, when they’re so far away from home. And not as many people are interested in doing it as they used to be,” she says, sighing sadly. 

And like, Buck _knows_ she’s trying to guilt him into it. But the problem is, it’s working. Because he likes to help people, it’s kind of his whole thing, and she’s making it seem like a stupid email is this great gift, or something. 

He doesn’t want to do this, though. Doesn’t want to connect with some God-fearing catholic who believes _thou shall not kill_ but then heads off into a war zone to do exactly that. And he doesn’t want to be sucked back into the church, the place that made him feel ashamed and disgusting and _lonely._

Which is why he leaves the church with a pack of contact details for someone on active duty. Because of course he does.

**—————**

He doesn’t open the pack for almost a week. Between 12 hour shifts at the fire station, and taking care of Maddie, and like, _sleeping,_ he just hasn’t had the time. So it sits on his coffee table under a pile of mail, and Buck carefully avoids looking at it for as long as possible.

Plus, there’s the whole guilt thing swirling around inside of him. And he’s not sure why he’s surprised, because church has made him feel that way since he was fourteen years old. But Buck had hoped he’d grown out of it - figured the internalised homophobia and catholic guilt would have disappeared by now. 

Except he feels dirty no matter how many times he showers, like God and all his freaking angels are watching and judging - like Buck is back on their radar now he’s been back to church, and they don’t like what they’re seeing. And he knows it’s dumb, he knows he’s a good person and being bi doesn’t change that even for a second. 

It’s just, Buck feels like he’s being haunted by the ghost of who he used to be, and he doesn’t very much like that person. 

But after a rough shift where things got a little too close for comfort, Buck pulls the pack onto his lap. And it’s not like the whole near death experience is pushing him closer to God, because it’s not. It’s just that, he figures whoever’s information is inside this pack goes through those kinds of experiences on a pretty regular basis too. So, solidarity, or something. 

And Buck’s definitely not keen on the military industrial complex - his brief stint with the SEALS taught him that. But he’s got nothing to lose by dropping this person an email - hell, they might not even reply. 

There isn’t much inside the pack, just the same leaflet the old lady from church handed him, a contact sheet, and a photograph. 

He looks at the photo first, and almost laughs with the irony of it. Because Eddie Diaz - it says his name in bold, black letters beneath the photo - is stupid hot. Like, tanned skin and big brown eyes, and he isn’t smiling but Buck thinks he’s probably got a beautiful smile when he does. 

And honestly, isn’t it just Buck’s luck that he gets the hottest fucking person in the entire United States Army. 

“Jesus Christ,” Buck whispers into the quiet of his apartment, then feels kind of guilty about it. 

Buck knows this type. He went to _Church_ with this type. They’re hot as sin and they absolutely know it, they bag the prettiest girl in church even though they’ve definitely already hooked up with someone else, and they’re _always_ the ones who use the word _fag_ as an adjective. 

So it’s a really bad idea. And yet. His info sheet says that he’s from Texas, serving his third tour in Afghanistan, and his son is living with his Aunt while he’s overseas, so. He has a son - but probably not a wife - and Buck does love kids. It would give them something to talk about, maybe. 

Buck has no idea what he’s doing when he types Eddie Diaz’s email into the address bar. He lets his fingers run over the keyboard as he tries to think of something to say, or a way to talk himself out of this. He almost closes the laptop twice, but something in him just won’t let him, and like, fate, or whatever. 

So he types. 

_Hi Eddie,_

_I’m Evan Buckley, but everyone just calls me Buck. I was given your contact information from an old lady at church. I used to send Christmas cards through_ A Million Thanks _when I was a kid, so I figured I could try this again, maybe._

_Anyway, I hope you’re staying safe out there._

_Buck._

It’s only once he’s sent it that Buck realises it’s actually kind of pathetic. He doesn’t tell Eddie a single thing about himself, or ask any questions, or make himself seem interesting in the slightest. Like, _an old lady at church,_ what the hell Buckley? 

He closes his laptop out of sheer embarrassment, and vows never to mention this to anyone, or check his emails ever again. Like, ever.

**—————**

He checks his emails two days later.

And, like, it’s not about the Eddie thing. It’s just, Bobby has sent them an updated safeguarding policy and he’s supposed to read it, and Buck is trying out the whole ‘being responsible’ thing now, so he actually plans to. 

But when he opens his emails up and sees a reply from Eddie, well. The safeguarding policy can wait until later - it’s not like he read the last one, anyway. 

It’s actually embarrassing how nervous he is to open it. He just sits there with his cursor hovering over the email, staring at it like it might disappear if he only he looks at it long enough.

It’s just. It’s not even really about the person he’s writing to, it’s _all_ of it. It’s Eddie being crazy hot but probably a bit of an ass, it’s the church, it’s the fact the walls have felt like they’re closing in on Buck ever since he stepped inside that church. It’s like something is trying to catch up to Buck and he can only outrun it for so long. 

He clicks on the email anyway. 

_Hey Buck,_

_I’m Eddie. Obviously._

_This is actually kind of awkward because I definitely didn’t sign up for this, it was my aunt. So, you know, you don’t have to feel obligated to write._

_Thanks anyway._

He reads it three times, just waiting for the relief to sink in that he doesn’t have to do this. Only it never comes. 

This is exactly what he wanted, an out, an excuse not to get tangled up with anything too complicated. And yet, he doesn’t really feel anything. Not disappointment, but not relief either, just a weird emptiness in his chest that’s always kind of been there, it just feels a little louder on some days. 

He closes his laptop and it feels like shutting the door on this whole thing. 

But then it’s only a couple of days later when he finds himself opening up the email again. He’s on his phone this time, curled up in bed but his head too fuzzy to sleep, and his body is aching and tired after a too-long shift at work. 

They lost someone today, a mom of two who was just trying to make it home from work to her kids. And it was no ones fault, they all did their jobs and made her as comfortable as possible. But it feels like Buck’s fault because it _always_ feels like Buck’s fault - like he should have tried harder, done more, saved her. 

He can’t close his eyes without seeing her face, without hearing her voice when she said, “Please, my kids,” before fading away. 

So he reads the email again, and then ever so hesitantly, he clicks _reply._

Because he knows it’s not the same, being a firefighter and being a soldier. But they’ll both know loss, and fear, and that pain you get in the pit of your stomach when it feels like you’ve failed. 

And Buck has people to talk to, he has Maddie and Chim, and Hen, Bobby, Athena. He knows he’s not alone, not like he used to be. But sometimes it feels like they care _too much,_ and Buck doesn’t know how to be honest with them when he feels like this - doesn’t want to burden them with his problems. So it’s easier to talk to a stranger, and it’s easier to talk about anything other than his own shit. 

_Hey,_

_Your aunt is the one taking care of your son, right? (That’s what it says in the info packet I got, I’m not a creep, I swear.) I guess it’s nice having someone who looks out for you like that, though._

_It doesn’t feel like an obligation to write, unless you don’t want me to, of course. Then I’ll stop. I just figured it might be easier talking to someone who you don’t have to lie to._

_Buck_

He sends it before he can think too much about it, and then he’s asleep before his head even hits the pillow. 

The next morning he feels a little less hollowed out, especially as he sits with Maddie in a tiny little hipster cafe that makes ridiculously good cinnamon buns. 

She’s reading through a book of baby names, snorting at the most ridiculous ones and folding down the pages when she finds one she likes. 

“I swear to god, some of these are made up,” she says, squinting at the page in disbelief. 

“What, you don’t like _Blaykeleigh?_ ” Buck asks, leaning over Maddie’s shoulder and pointing at the name. 

She laughs, shoving Buck’s shoulder so hard he almost spills his coffee. 

“Too simple,” she teases, and Buck chuckles back. 

He loves seeing his sister like this, so happy and carefree like she’s always deserved to be. It almost makes all the shit they went through worth it, just to be able to sit here together, laughing like the past is thousands of miles behind them. 

“What does Chim think?” Buck asks as he takes a sip of his coffee. 

Maddie gives him a look, her are-you-serious-right-now look, and Buck immediately holds his hands up in surrender. 

“He thinks we’re calling it Howard if it’s a boy,” Maddie says, a borderline manic look on her face. 

Buck almost chokes. 

“Howard Han the second?” Buck asks, trying to contain his laughter but failing miserably. 

The glare he gets in response makes him question all of his life decisions that have lead him to this point. He thinks it’s unfair that Maddie already has that mom look down to a T before the baby has even arrived yet, but whatever. He’s not questioning anything. 

“You know, I personally think _Evan_ is a great name,” Buck says, because he apparently does not value his life.

“I’d rather call it Howard,” she says dryly, and Buck just laughs again. 

“Evie for a girl?” He suggests, but Maddie shoots him down with another look. 

His phone vibrates on the table so he leans forward to looks at it, almost chokes on nothing when he sees that it’s an email from Eddie. He kind of just, stares at it for a second. He’d half been expecting Eddie to just not reply at all, so this is catching him off guard, and that’s never good in front of Maddie, who’s way too perceptive for her own good. 

“You gonna get that?” She asks, nodding towards his phone. 

Buck shakes his head. “No, just junk mail,” he lies. 

And Maddie knows he’s lying, he can tell by the arch of her eyebrows and the tiny smirk that curls the corner of her mouth upwards. She doesn’t say anything though, and he’s glad, because he doesn’t know to explain this one without getting one hell of a lecture in return. 

So they finish their drinks and cinnamon buns, and Maddie adds a few more names to the notes app on her phone. And they hold each other tightly as they say goodbye, something that Buck hasn’t been able to let go of doing now that she’s back in his life, like he’s still afraid that every time he sees her will be the last time. But she always indulges him, doesn’t let go until Buck does first, and always leaves him with one last squeeze. 

Buck doesn’t check his phone again until he’s safely locked behind the door of his apartment. 

This shouldn’t feel like a secret, but it does anyway. And he’s nervous again when he opens the email. 

_Buck,_

_Yeah, my aunt is the one taking care of Christopher. That’s my son, by the way. The light of my fucking life, even if it’s a cliche. And yeah, she cares a lot. Worries a lot, too._

_Are you trying to imply that I lie to my family? Not sure how I feel about that._

_Eddie._

Christopher. The patron saint of travellers, Buck remembers from his years of Sunday school. He thinks it’s quite a fitting name for the son of a soldier, and it makes Buck smile just a little at the thought. If he knows anything about catholics - and he does - Eddie probably carries a St Christopher token with him wherever he goes. 

The last part sets his teeth on edge, though. Because Buck knows that if there’s one thing church goers hate, it’s being called a liar. And that’s not what he’d meant, or, not in the way that Eddie had clearly interpreted it. 

So he has to reply now, he can’t just leave this open ended when it sounds like Buck is accusing him.

_Eddie,_

_St Christopher? I guess he’s your good luck charm, then. I bet you can’t wait to get home to him._

_I wasn’t trying to accuse you, sorry. I just meant, I know what it’s like to lie to people to try and protect them. Sometimes lies are easier than the truth._

_Buck._

It feels weird to send that, to admit it. It’s too big of a confession for two strangers to share, maybe. But isn’t that the beauty of this? That they’re just strangers, with no expectations or requirements. They can be honest because it doesn’t matter.

**—————**

When Buck gets the next email, he’s at work. It’s a slow day, only two calls so far and they’re halfway into the shift. So he doesn’t feel guilty when he disappears to the locker room for a while, so he can answer in private.

It’s not like it really matters, he could answer sitting around with everyone - it’s just, that feels too exposed, not private enough for something that feels like a secret. And it shouldn’t be a secret, it _isn’t_ really, except for how he doesn’t want anyone to know about this. Because he’s been running from religion for so long, and he doesn’t know how to explain why he’s got involved in a church programme, he doesn’t even have the answer himself. 

He stays standing, leans against his locker as he opens it. Nervous, yet again, that he’s offended or insulted him in some way. 

It takes a second for it load, which is unusual, but it becomes clear why pretty quickly: Eddie has attached a picture to the email. 

It’s a close up. He can see Eddie’s collarbones, the army issued green t-shirt that he’s wearing, his hand, and, resting between his fingers, a chain with a St Christopher pendant hanging on the end. 

Buck smiles, laughs a little, because he was right. 

_Buck,_

_You caught me. I can’t bring the real one with me so this one comes everywhere - just a reminder of what’s waiting back home for me. Being away from him is the hardest part of all of this._

_You’re right about that, I guess. It’s easier to tell people back home that everything is fine, because the reality would hurt too much and I don’t want to put that on them. I’m guessing you have experience with that, too?_

_Eddie._

Buck doesn’t reply straight away, has something at home that he wants to show Eddie. So he reads the email once more, can’t help but smile at the St Christopher medallion, and then puts his phone away and heads back out. 

“Where did you disappear to?” Chim asks. 

“Locker room,” Buck answers honestly. 

“Why? What are you hiding Buck? What’s going on? You can tell us,” Hen teases, bumping into Buck’s shoulder as she walks past him. 

Buck rolls his eyes and laughs. He’s used to this, used to them being all up in his business because he’s the only single guy on the team. He sits down next to Chim, just forceful enough that he spills some of his coffee down his shirt. 

“Fucker,” Chim hisses, and all is forgotten. 

The shift drags like hell, because of course it does. There are hardly any calls and they’re all minor ones, which, you know, is great when you’re looking at the big picture. Not so much when you want to stay busy so the time passes faster. 

Buck can hardly wait to leave, and he’s out of the door the second the next shift arrives to take over. 

As soon as he gets home, he takes the stairs to his loft two at a time. He dumps his bag on the bed, then instantly drops to his knees and begins to rifle through his drawers. 

He can’t remember exactly where it is, he just knows that it’s somewhere. And he doesn’t even know why he kept it, really. It’s attached to one of the worst memories of his life - and there’s been a lot of those. It’s just that, he was never able to get rid of it. Every time he tried, he couldn’t force himself to part with it, like it was a cursed object, attached to him for life. 

It doesn’t take long to find it, still in the box that it came in because Buck always refused to wear it. His hands shake when he picks it up, almost traps his fingers when he tries to open it the first time. But he takes a breath - _get it together, Buckley_ \- and opens it. 

He hadn’t realised until he was looking right at it, but this is the first time he’s opened it since his parents handed it to him when he was seventeen years old. He lets his finger hover over it, but can’t bring himself to touch it. 

It’s like he’s back home again, just a frightened kid with nowhere to go. He can feel his dad’s grip on his shoulder, his mom’s sad eyes as she handed it to him, the bitter taste of panic on his tongue. 

“We want you to take this with you,” she’d said, and Buck’s hands had trembled as he took it from her even then. 

He remembers opening it, recognising it, and forcing down the sob that threatened to crawl its way out of his chest because he knew that wasn’t going to help. He remembers screwing his eyes shut to stop the tears from falling so he didn’t make things any worse. 

“It’s Saint Jude,” his dad had explained. 

Buck already knew though, had known the second he laid his eyes on it. Saint Jude, the patron saint of desperate cases and lost causes. And really, there should be nothing more that his parents could do to hurt him, but somehow this is the thing that hurts the most. This is what cuts so deep he can barely breathe through the pain of it. 

Because if your parents think you’re a lost cause, then what chance do you have? 

After that, they’d put him in the car and driven him three hours to a conversion camp. 

The sign when they entered had said _Love In Action,_ but there was no love in that place. 

Buck has to hold his breath when he takes a picture of it, so he doesn’t shake and blur the image. Then he shoves it right to the back of the drawer and slams it closed. 

He doesn’t know why he’s doing it, what makes him want to show this to part of himself to Eddie - to a complete stranger. But it feels like something they have in common, even if not in the way they use it, but just in the having of it. 

So he attaches the image to the email, and chews on his lower lip as he types out his response. 

_Eddie,_

_My parents gave me this. Make of that what you will._

_I’m a firefighter, been injured a couple times on the job. It gets to a point where you’re tired of people worrying and giving you that pitying look, so it’s easier to just say everything is all good. You don’t wanna burden them with your own shit, right?_

_Guess that’s why it can be easier to talk to a stranger. There are no expectations._

_Buck._

He sends it before he chickens out, before it has time to feel too big, and scary, and _raw._

Because he’s essentially just told this guy - who believes in God, and serves his country, and loves his son - that Buck is a massive fuck up, and even his parents think so too. 

And maybe Eddie will never reply again now, but at least he got to show him the pendant. At least someone else on this earth knows that Buck is still haunted by his parents and what they put him through, even if that person has no idea what that really means. 

If he had told Maddie it would have just given him more to worry about, but this feels like a weight off his shoulders. And Eddie doesn’t know him, not really, so it’s not like Buck is burdening him with this - not when he doesn’t care. 

And it’s not like he’s going to tell this guy everything, he couldn’t even _think_ about going down that path. But even if it’s just small things, even if this is the _only_ thing Buck tells him, at least it’s something. One thing that Buck doesn’t have to carry by himself, like a weight around his neck. 

He didn’t need to worry about Eddie not replying, though. Because it’s not even a whole day before he gets the reply, and he’s alone this time, no one around to hide from when he opens it. 

_Buck,_

_St Jude? I don’t know, you can’t be that much of a lost cause if you’re a firefighter. That’s pretty badass, man. I guess disappointed parents is just the universal catholic experience, right? We’re never quite good enough. That’s why I don’t really practice, why I don’t raise Christopher in the church. I probably should have mentioned that earlier - sorry if it’s a problem._

_I’m also sorry to hear about the injuries, I’ve had a few of those myself. Hope you’re doing okay now, though._

_No expectations sounds like a pretty sweet deal. Sign me up for that shit._

_Eddie._

Buck can hardly believe what he’s seeing, has to read it again and again just to make sure he’s not imagining things, just to make sure the words on the screen don’t change as he reads them. 

It’s stupid, and Buck always does this - trusts far too easily. But Eddie didn’t even question anything, didn’t even ask what Buck did to deserve a St Jude as a gift from his parents. 

And he’s lapsed too, isn’t practicing or raising his son in the church, and Buck lets out a sigh of relief at that. It makes everything feel so much easier, even though Eddie is already easy to talk to - relaxed, and understanding, and _decent._ It’s just, he doesn’t feel like he’s lying now, doesn’t feel like he’s deceiving Eddie into thinking Buck is a good catholic boy. 

He smiles as he reads over it again, and he knows this feeling in the pit of his stomach is a warning sign, but Buck has never been great as self preservation.

**—————**

Things kind of just, continue, after that. The almost thirteen hour time difference makes things a little difficult sometimes, because neither of them seem to be free at the same time, but they make it work.

It’s usually an email a day, maybe two on a good day, maybe less on a busy one. And Buck knows that with the time difference, and their busy lives, and the spotty WiFi Eddie has out there, that not hearing from him isn’t a five alarm fire - it’s not any reason to panic. And yet. 

He gets nervous when Eddie takes longer than usual, when it’s been a day, a day and half since his last email. Buck was never the kind of person who walked around attached to his phone, but now, more often than not, it’ll never be more than an arms length away from him, always on vibrate so he doesn’t miss a single message. 

He hates the way his heart rate accelerates every time it goes off, hates it even more when it’s junk mail or a twitter notification, or anything other than Eddie. And he hates how he can breathe a sigh of relief every time he gets a reply, how the whole day feels a little easier knowing that Eddie is alright. He can’t fucking stand it, actually. But he’s not gonna stop. 

Buck finds himself watching the news more often now, as well, just listening out for any information that might relate to Eddie. He’ll keep the news channels on in the firehouse, rattle off random facts about US international relations that he hadn’t even realised he’d retained until he was telling someone else about them. And of course everyone notices, because how could they not. 

“Buck, I didn’t think you knew news channels _existed,_ ” Chim jokes, only it’s not exactly a joke, not really. 

Buck rolls his eyes and ignores him, listens closer as Anderson Cooper talks about troop movements in Afghanistan. 

“Yeah Chim is right, Buck, what’s up with all this?” Hen asks, looking at him over the crossword book she’s holding. 

He shrugs. “It’s interesting stuff,” he says. 

And he means it, too. Because, sure, he only _started_ listening for Eddie’s sake, but that’s not the only reason now. It genuinely fascinates Buck, and not just the international politics, but all of it. 

The more he watches, the more he realises that he’s cared about this stuff all along, it’s just never really felt like his place. Politics has always felt like it belongs to people smarter than him, more experienced. 

But he feels his skin crawl listening to Republicans call for unity, and then shun every single minority. His hands clench into fists when they claim they’re pro-life but don’t care about cops murdering Black people, or undocumented children in cages, or trans people being killed. 

He finds it almost funny that his beliefs are basically the exact opposite of how he was raised. Almost. Mostly he just finds it sad that there are people like this, that his own _parents_ were like this. Not for the first time, he finds himself thanking whatever is out there that he and Maddie somehow turned out better than what their parents wanted for them. 

Because of Buck’s new found interest, he even finds himself looking at online classes. Not seriously, Buck did college once already and it kind of sucked, but just for curiosity’s sake. But then he mentions it to Eddie in passing, and Eddie thinks it’s a great idea - tells Buck to go for it. 

So Buck does. He signs up for a political sciences class online, once a week and flexible enough to work around his shifts. And Eddie is the only one he tells, because he’s the only person Buck is certain won’t judge him for it, or at least the only one who won’t ask questions. 

And it’s weird that this thing with Eddie - this _friendship_ \- has allowed Buck to tread into new spaces, explore things he’d always thought were way too far out of his reach. Because Eddie never makes him feel stupid, and he knows that no one else does that on purpose, knows that it’s just friendly teasing, but it always hits that space deep inside of his chest - the space where seventeen year old Buck still lives, scared, and lonely, and so insecure he feels sick with it. 

So Eddie - he feels like the simplest part of Buck’s life, and somehow the most complicated too. 

Buck finds himself telling Eddie things he’s never told anyone before. Not even big things, really, but for some reason that makes it feel even more important - that he wants to tell Eddie the small things, just because he can. 

He tells him about the time he stole a quarter from the collection tray at church when he was fourteen, for no other reason than to rebel, because it was the only way he knew how to. He tells him about his first kiss, how it was behind the bicycle shed at his private catholic school. (He doesn’t tell him it was with Ethan Carter - that’s just _too_ big to say). He tells him that he doesn’t speak to his parents anymore, and Eddie doesn’t ask any questions. 

And it feels good, to tell him those tiny little things that make Eddie laugh, but make Buck’s shoulders feel a little lighter with every secret that he shares. 

Eddie tells Buck things too, and he doesn’t _say_ that he’s never told them to anyone else, but Buck can just tell with the way he words things. It feels like he’s holding a precious part of Eddie, knowing that he broke his moms favourite vase and never owned up to it, or that he joined the army for the money but also because he was scared, and how Christopher is the best thing in his life and he’s _so_ afraid that he’s going to fail him. 

It feels so big, that Eddie trusts him with all of this, that out of everyone in the world, it’s Buck who gets to know these things that are small, or funny, or huge, or terrifying. It’s like Buck is carrying a part of Eddie with him, by knowing these things that no one else gets to know. 

And Buck isn’t stupid - he’s talking a political science class, _okay_ \- so he knows what this is, for him. 

He knows it’s already so much more than he should have ever let it become. Because the way he smiles when Eddie’s name lights up his phone, the way he reads and re-reads every single email just to get more of him. Yeah. He’s already crazy about this guy who he knows so well, but has never even met. This guy who makes Buck feel safe, and heard, and valued, from almost 8000 miles away. 

He also knows it’s a bad fucking idea, can feel that ugly, twisting guilt trying to take root inside of him and can hear his parents voices in his ear. He’s not going to stop though, at this point he isn’t sure he could even if he wanted to.

**—————**

Buck asks about Christopher’s mom one day, just because Eddie talks about him all the time - has even sent Buck pictures of him - but has never once mentioned his mom.

Eddie’s reply cracks Buck’s chest wide open. 

_Buck,_

_That story is a sad one._

_Me and Shannon - that’s her name - we were young when we met. Too young, really, especially for a kid. And I loved her, but I probably should have known from the beginning that it wasn’t going to be a forever thing, that we weren’t going to spend our lives together._

_We were struggling after Chris was born, with his diagnosis and with money problems, and I joined the army to provide for my son. But I also used it as an escape. Shannon never got that escape._

_When I came back from my second tour, she left. Just, got up in the middle of the night, packed her things, and disappeared. So it was just me a Christopher for a while._

_She came back eventually, and I was so fucking angry at her, you know? For leaving Chris, more than me, because I might have deserved it but he definitely didn’t. We found a way to work together though, and things were okay._

_Then she died, and I was angry all over again. How messed up is that, being angry at a dead person?_

_I felt guilty too, of course. Because she’d just come back into Christopher’s life again, and then she was gone. I felt guilty for letting her back at all, for making her leave in the first place, for every single little thing._

_It’s been two years now._

_Eddie._

Every part of Buck aches for Eddie, he just wants to reach through the screen and make all of this hurt go away. He’s felt loss before, but never like this, never with so many complicated emotions attached. 

It takes him hours to reply - he writes and re-writes it over and over again, can’t decide what is overstepping, or not saying enough, or unwelcome. 

_Eddie,_

_I know this probably won’t help at all, but I’m so sorry you had to go through that. I can’t even imagine how hard it would be, having so many conflicting emotions._

_Your feelings can never be wrong, they’re how you feel. You were angry because she’d already left you once, and then she left you again. And it wasn’t her fault that time, but we don’t always think rationally when we’re hurting. It’s okay._

_I think the guilt is normal, Eddie, even if it isn’t yours to carry. You didn’t make her leave the first time, it was her choice. And you didn’t take her away the second time, either. It wasn’t your fault, and I know that Christopher knows that too._

_You’re an amazing dad. Christopher is lucky to have you._

_Buck._

He’s tired when he presses _send,_ and he can’t even begin to imagine how hard it was for Eddie to tell him that. He thinks it’s a testament to Eddie as a person, and this friendship that’s blossoming between them, that they can have these conversations with each other that they wouldn’t have with anyone else. 

If Buck got to decide, he’d probably only ever have serious conversations with Eddie for the rest of his life. Because they can be serious and genuine, and then they can let it go and move onto to something else without dwelling, without letting their thoughts spiral to somewhere darker, that isn’t good for either of them. They’re easy with Eddie. 

Unfortunately, Buck has a big sister. A pregnant, hormonal big sister, who notices everything and has no idea how to mind her own damn business. 

(He loves Maddie, would die for her in an instant, but _god,_ she’s hard work.)

She’s six months pregnant now, and absolutely refusing to find out the gender of the baby even though literally _everyone_ is begging her to. At this point, Buck is convinced she’s only doing it to spite everyone else, and it honestly wouldn’t surprise him. 

They have a rare day off together, so Maddie has been dragging him around the mall looking for baby clothes, and baby blankets, and baby toys, and baby _everything._ Buck keeps complaining, but really it’s only for appearances sake, and they both know it - Buck is almost as excited as Maddie is for this baby to arrive. 

“So,” Maddie says, sighing as they finally sit down in some vegan cafe - the only one with an empty table. 

“So,” Buck copies, carefully balancing all the shopping bags on a spare chair and willing none of them to fall over. 

“Are we gonna talk about it?” She asks in her serious voice, and Buck suddenly feels nervous. 

He’s not sure what he’s nervous _for,_ he has absolutely no idea where this is going, but he definitely is feeling it. Especially with the way Maddie is looking at him, like she knows all of his secrets and is just waiting patiently for him to spill them. 

“Uh, gonna need to give me a hint here, Mads,” Buck chuckles. 

She rolls her eyes and sighs, and oh, Buck just _knows_ he’s in for a ride, here. 

“I know something is going on with you, you’re constantly checking your phone and smiling at it,” she says, just as Buck looks back up from his phone. Shit. 

“I’m not,” he denies. 

Suddenly his oat milk latte is the most interesting thing on the planet. 

“Evan.”

“Madeline.”

“ _Evan,_ ” she repeats, just looking at him.

In his defence, he does last for at least twenty seconds before he caves. That’s like, five seconds better than his previous record, and sixteen seconds better than Chim’s record. So. 

“Okay, fine,” he sighs. “But you can’t judge me.”

“I’m not gonna _judge_ you, you idiot,” she says. 

Buck fixes her a with a stare, all raised eyebrows and a patronising smile until she waves her hand in defeat. 

“Okay, I might judge you a little, but not in a bad way!”

And okay, he’ll take that. Because while she’s probably gonna call him an idiot in like, thirty seven different ways, it’s only gonna be because she loves him and wants what’s best for him. 

He takes in a deep breath, figuring that it’s best just to start right at the beginning. 

“So a couple months ago,” he begins, and shit, has it been that long already? “I kind of, went to church.”

Her eyes bug out of her head, and he’s honestly surprised she doesn’t do a spit take with her weird kale smoothie. 

“Evan, what the hell?” She asks, her face all sad and concerned now, the exact reason he hadn’t wanted to tell her in the first place. 

“I’m fine, Maddie,” he assures her. 

“That place almost ruined you, Evan. The way it made you feel, the things it taught you, that _awful_ camp,” she says. 

And man, had that been a conversation and a half. Maddie had already left home when Buck got caught kissing Sam Owens and their parents sent him to _Love In Action._ Telling her about it was the hardest conversation he’s ever had to have. 

“I know,” he says. “I know Maddie, okay. Sometimes I see a guy who I think is hot and I _still_ feel sick with guilt. I _know_ what it did to me.”

She nods, and Buck doesn’t miss the way her bottom lip quivers slightly. She doesn’t cry, but it’s a near thing, so Buck reaches out a hand and takes hold of Maddie’s. 

“It’s just, you’re having a baby, Mads. And I don’t know, I felt like I had to cover all bases, y’know? Make sure you’re both as looked after as possible,” he admits. 

Maddie does cry at that, though. But she’s subtle about it, doesn’t interrupt Buck, just wipes away the tears and carries on listening, like she knows Buck needs to get this out as quickly as possible. 

“Anyway, on my way out there was this woman and they were doing this thing - do you remember when we were kids and had to send Christmas cards to soldiers?” Maddie nods, so Buck continues, “Well it was like that, and I don’t know, she guilted me into, or whatever. I’m weak and she was a little old lady. So, I started emailing the person they connected me with.”

“And, this person -“

“Eddie.”

“Eddie, he’s, what? Your friend?”

Buck knows how wide he’s smiling, knows his feelings are probably visible from fucking space, or at the very least, Afghanistan. He just nods. 

“Yeah, yeah Maddie, he’s a really great guy.”

“Sure,” she says hesitantly. “Is that why you’re smiling like _that?_ ” She waves vaguely at his face. 

Buck rolls his eyes. 

“Shut up,” he mumbles. 

“Oh, oh _no_ Evan, this is such a bad idea!” She warns him. “You can’t fall for a catholic solider, are you kidding me?”

Okay, he gets that, he really does. It’s just, she doesn’t know Eddie like he does. And god, what a fucking cliche that is, but it’s true all the same. He knows how it must sound to her, but she’d change her mind if she ever spoke to him, he’s certain of it. 

“He’s not like, _that,_ okay? He doesn’t practice, he was just raised that way, and he only joined the army to support his super adorable son. So.” He feels like he’s making a point, even if Maddie isn’t buying it yet. 

“Evan, I love you, but you have to know this isn’t a good idea?” She says. 

And of course he knows it isn’t a good idea, he’s known it since the second he made eye contact with that woman in the church. Has known it since he saw the photo of Eddie’s warm, brown eyes, since the very first email and every single one after that. He _knows_ this isn’t going to end well for him, nothing ever does. 

It’s never going to stop him from trying though. 

Which is why he can’t say no to the request he receives in Eddie’s next email. 

_Buck,_

_I’ve been thinking - dangerous, I know. But I hardly think it’s fair that you got a picture of me and I still have no idea what you look like. Kinda makes this relationship seem a bit unbalanced, no?_

_What do you say we FaceTime?_

_Eddie._

And what’s Buck gonna say? _No?_ Not likely. 

So he replies with his number, pointedly ignoring Maddie’s voice in the back of his head, just listing off reasons why he’s making a mistake. And when Eddie replies less than an hour later, with a list of times that he’s free to call, well. Buck is already in too deep now, so. He can’t back out, that would just be rude. 

It’s after a twelve hour shift that Buck and Eddie agree to FaceTime, so Buck’s curls are an unruly mess, and there are dark circles under his eyes, and he’s tucked up in bed. Being in bed is maybe a little too _intimate?_ Buck thinks. But it’s late, and he’s exhausted, and he fully plans on falling right to sleep after this call ends. 

(That’s not a true. Buck knows he’s gonna be way too giddy to sleep after this, but he’s going to continue to lie to himself so he feels better about the whole thing.)

Buck has a fizzy feeling in the pit of his stomach, like he’s overflowing with nerves and excitement, and none of it has anywhere to go. He’s holding his phone unlocked in both of hands, just watching and waiting for the second the time changes and Eddie calls. 

He almost throws his phone across the room when Eddie’s name lights up on his screen, so excited and terrified that it almost slips out of his grasp. 

It takes three tries for Buck to finally answer it, and when he does, well. Fuck. 

The picture is kind of grainy, but way better than he was expecting. Which means he can see Eddie pretty clearly, can see his his brown eyes and the way the early morning sun lights his face up. He can see his smile too, and Buck was right all those months ago - it is beautiful. 

Only when he realises he’s been staring a little too long, does Buck clear his throat. 

“Uh, hi,” he says, chuckling nervously.

Eddie doesn’t reply at first, and for a second he thinks the connection has frozen, but then -

“Sorry, hi,” Eddie says, his voice slow and syrupy. “Hi, it’s good to see you.”

“Yeah, yeah it really is,” Buck agrees, and they’re both smiling stupidly wide. 

“I’m not sure what I was expecting, but it wasn’t this,” Eddie says as he gestures at Buck. 

Buck can’t help but laugh at that, because what the fuck? What does that even mean? He’s going to take it as a compliment until explicitly specified, but still. 

“What does _that_ mean?” He asks, running his hand through his hair self-consciously. 

Eddie coughs a little - maybe the heat or humidity out there - but he’s still smiling at Buck, all warm and easy. 

“Just - you’re definitely like, Mr July, on the fire department’s charity calendar, aren’t you?” Eddie says. 

And Buck can’t help it, the way his head falls back as he lets out a deep, belly-laugh. Because that might be the funniest way someone has ever described him in his life, but it absolutely sounds like a compliment so he’s gonna take that and run with it. 

“What are you, then?” Buck asks. “Mr October?”

Then Eddie is laughing too, and it’s the most natural, easy feeling in the world. 

Time falls away between them as they talk, and it could have been minutes or hours, but all Buck knows is that it’s not enough - he suddenly feels like he’ll never be able to get enough of this. 

He hates it when they have to say goodbye, would happily stay awake all night if it meant more of this, more of Eddie’s bright smile and infectious laugh. He makes Buck feel warm, from the flush on his cheeks down to the very tips of his toes, and he doesn’t know how to say goodbye. 

“Sorry Buck, I have to go now, I’m on duty,” Eddie says, and Buck’s only solace is that Eddie looks as disappointed about it as he feels. 

“Yeah man, of course, no worries!”

“But, I mean, we can do this again, right? When we both have the time,” Eddie suggests, and Buck is too familiar with the feeling of hope not to recognise it when he sees it. 

So he smiles softly and nods. “Yeah, of course. I’d love that.”

Eddie’s answering smile ruins Buck.

“Great! Yeah, well, I should go now, but thanks. For this. For like, all of it, I guess,” Eddie says, and he sounds so unsure that Buck’s heart fucking _aches._

“Thank you. Be safe out there,” Buck replies. 

“Goodnight, Evan,” Eddie whispers, and then the screen goes black. 

And Buck knows that he’s well and truly fucked. 

Because every single email sends Buck’s heart soaring, and every time he answers the FaceTime call and hears Eddie’s, “Hey, Buck,” he fucking melts. He hears Eddie’s laugh in his head while he’s making lunch, and he sees his early morning smile when he’s driving to work. Every part of his day, every part of his _brain_ is occupied by Eddie Diaz. It’s driving him crazy, and he wouldn’t change a damn thing. 

He knows where this is going - where it’s _always_ been going - but Buck is already half in love with him by now anyway, so any attempts at self-preservation would be futile. He just doesn’t see the point when this feels so _good_ right now.

**—————**

The fire gets out of hand way quicker than they’re expecting. It was supposed to be a simple in and out, but they quickly realise that the structure isn’t stable.

Buck pushes the kid out of the door just as the house starts to collapse around him. Something hits his head and it all goes fuzzy. 

He doesn’t lose consciousness fully, but the next time he’s really aware of anything is when he’s in the back of an ambulance, Chim fussing over him while Hen bombards him with questions from the drivers seat. 

“M’fine,” Buck manages to mumble.

He tries to take off the oxygen mask so he can talk properly, but before he can even move Chim is grabbing hold of his wrist and pinning it down. 

“Don’t even think about it, Buckley,” he warns. 

“Think about what? What’s he doing?” Hen asks. 

Buck would probably feel flattered that his friends care so much if his head wasn’t hurting like a bitch, and his mouth didn’t taste dry and ashy, like he’d been swallowing fire. 

“I’m _fine,_ ” he repeats, more clearly this time. 

“He’s being a pain in my ass, that’s what he’s doing,” Chim tells Hen. 

And honestly, Buck nearly died, so this whole ignoring him thing is really quite rude. Okay, well. He didn’t nearly _die,_ that’s maybe a bit of an exaggeration. But still, he’s in the back of an ambulance, so like, the least they could do is acknowledge him. 

“Rude,” Buck says, coughing half way through. 

Ah. Smoke inhalation. That explains it then. 

“Stop talking,” Hen yells at him. 

They don’t listen to him for the rest of the ride, they just talk _about_ him while Chim fusses over him and has to occasionally smack his hand away when he tries to take his mask off. His friends suck. 

Except. They’re actually kind of the best. 

Because they have to go back to work once they’ve dropped him off, but they make sure he gets the nicest doctor and nurses, and Chim squeezes his shoulder and Hen kisses him on the forehead as they leave. So he can forgive them, really. 

The doctor and nurses are as kind as Hen and Chim had promised Buck, and while he _does_ have to stay until morning, it’s only because of the smoke inhalation. He doesn’t have any signs of a concussion, despite the hit on the head, which means he might not even have to miss a shift. 

More than anything, he’s just kind of bored. The hospital is quiet so late at night, Maddie is likely sleeping, and all of his friends are working without him. 

He’s on his second consecutive hour of tiktok videos when Eddie’s name lights up across Buck’s phone. His heart stops for a second, because that’s the kind of effect Eddie has on him. But he doesn’t hesitate for long, and swipes across to answer the call. 

“Sup, Diaz,” Buck greets him. 

It’s almost midday in Afghanistan, and the sun looks high and hot. Eddie’s bathed in it, and his smile makes Buck feel like there’s static in his veins. 

But then the smile slips, and Eddie is suddenly frowning at him. 

“Why the hell are you in hospital?”

Oh, that. 

Buck chuckles. “I’m fine, Eddie.”

“I didn’t ask that, I asked why you’re there in the first place. What happened?” 

He sounds worried, and Buck is embarrassed to admit that it makes his insides feel all gooey, like he’s twelve years old with his first crush. 

“Just a work thing, I’m good,” Buck insists. 

Because this thing is so much different than it was when it started, and now Eddie is one of the people that Buck doesn’t want to worry or burden. Unfortunately for Buck, though, Eddie doesn’t ever give him the choice. 

“Evan Buckley, I swear to fucking god,” he warns. 

And like, that probably shouldn’t be as hot as it is. But Buck can feel his cheeks flush under Eddie’s gaze, and he has to break eye contact for a second, just to take a breath and get his shit together. 

“It was just a house fire,” Buck explains. “But the structure was unstable so it came down around me. It’s just a bump to the head and a bit of smoke inhalation.”

Eddie nods, pleased that Buck is answering honestly. Like Buck could do anything else, when Eddie is looking at him, and talking to him, like _that._

“Concussion?” Eddie asks. 

“Nope, I’m good. Promise you,” Buck says, even holding up his pinky to the camera as an offering. 

Eddie tries to keep a straight face, he really does, but then he’s rolling his eyes and laughing. He pushes his hair back off his forehead and shakes his head, looks at Buck like he’s gonna be the death of him. Which is kind of ironic, seeings as it’s Eddie that’s actually slowly killing Buck, in all the best ways. 

“You fucking idiot,” he says, but he’s smiling and watching Buck closely, so somehow Buck doesn’t think he means it. 

“You were worried about me,” Buck sings, teasingly. 

Eddie fixes him with a disapproving look, and sighs. “Well you’re clumsy as shit, what do you expect.”

Buck scoffs indignantly, as he brings his hand up to his chest and says, “I am an _excellent_ firefighter.”

He starts to cough though, which kind of ruins the effect he’s going for when Eddie just laughs at him. 

“Alright Mr Hero, don’t hurt yourself.”

“You’re the hero here, Staff Sergeant Diaz,” Buck replies. 

The moment feels loaded, and they’re just looking at each other, not saying a single word. But then there’s a noise at the door, and when Buck looks up, Maddie is standing there. 

“Maddie, hey, what are you doing here?” He asks, trying to sit up. 

“Howie called me, are you okay?” She asks, rushing towards him. 

Buck glances at his phone briefly, and in that second Maddie realises she’s interrupted something. She stops halfway across the room. 

“Oh I’m so sorry, I’m interrupting,” she apologises. 

Buck looks down at his phone again, sees Eddie still smiling at him, and he figures now is as good an opportunity as ever. If Maddie is ever going to see Eddie as even the half the person Buck sees him as, she has to meet him. 

“No, it’s okay, it’s Eddie. Do you wanna say hi?” He asks Maddie, then looks back at Eddie for confirmation. 

When Eddie smiles and nods, Buck beckons Maddie over. She hesitates for a second, but then her nosey, big-sister instincts must kick in because she’s crossing the rest of the room in an instant, pregnant belly and all. 

“Hi, Maddie,” Eddie greets her. “I’ve heard a lot about you.” 

Her eyes flicker between Buck and Eddie for a second, then she smiles brightly. 

“Only good things I hope,” she jokes. “I’ve heard a lot about you, too.” 

“Oh of course, you’re Buck’s favourite person in the world,” Eddie says, and Buck just _knows_ he’s never gonna live that down. “I doubt what you’ve heard about me is as good as what I’ve heard about you, though.”

Maddie laughs, and it’s genuine and warm, and Buck knows instantly that she’s sold on him. Because honestly, how could she not be?

“Oh, he’s a charmer?” Maddie asks Buck.

“I try,” Eddie replies, smirking playfully. 

And to see his two favourite people in the whole world getting along, it means more to Buck than he even knows what do with. 

“Well, I’ll leave you guys to it,” Eddie says, a little while later. “Let me know when you’re home, okay? Goodnight Evan.” 

The screen goes black, and for a moment the room is quiet. He can feel Maddie watching him, but Buck can’t bring himself to look at her. Because he knows she’s going to have a lot to say, and he’s not sure if it’s something that he’s going to want to hear. 

It’s just, he knows she’s only ever looking out for him, knows that she just wants to protect him to make up for the years she feels she missed out on. But Buck loves hard, and yeah, he gets hurt a lot, but he still always throws himself into things unreservedly. He wouldn’t be himself if he held back, if he loved quietly and hesitantly. It’s not who he is. 

“Evan,” she says, her voice loud in the quiet room. “It’s written all over your face.”

“What do you mean?” He asks. 

She smiles softly, and takes his hand when she says, “You’re in love with him.” 

And it’s not like he hadn’t thought about it, hadn’t known that it was exactly where he’s been heading this whole time. But hearing it out loud, it’s jarring. It makes him feel untethered, like he could float away at any moment. 

Buck startles himself by letting out a laugh. It sounds kind of hysterical, really, and he clamps his hand over his mouth to quiet it. Scrunching his eyes closed, he leans backwards and sighs deeply. 

“Yeah,” he agrees. “Yeah, I am.”

Maddie doesn’t say anything, she just squeezes his hand and holds on, waiting until Buck is ready to speak, or to listen, or do anything other than try and hold himself together. 

“It’s not like it matters, I mean. He’s straight, and lives in Texas, and he’s, you know. _Good._ So.”

“Oh, Evan, _you_ are good,” she tells him. “You’re not seventeen anymore, and you’re not in that place. I _know_ you know that, that you’re not what they tried to tell you.”

And he does, most of the time. But sometimes, on the loud days where his head is busy and chaotic, he’s fifteen, sixteen, seventeen. He’s that lonely, queer kid all over again, desperate to be good enough for his parents, for the church, for _God._

He’s not ashamed of who he is anymore, not in any ways that are big enough to count. But sometimes, when he looks around and sees so many amazing people, it’s hard not to feel like he’s fighting to be good enough all over again. 

“I know,” is all Buck says in reply though, because it’s easier than saying anything else.

**—————**

It turns out that Buck _doesn’t_ have to miss a single shift, although he kind of wishes he had done when he finally makes it to the end of his first since he got hurt.

It’s long and stressful, and not anymore dangerous than usual, there were just a hell of a lot of rude people Buck absolutely didn’t have the time for. 

So when he finally makes it home and flops down on his couch, he’s beyond relieved. He’s tired right down to his bones, and he wants nothing more than to eat some dinner, submit his assignment for class, and go to sleep. But as he’s clicking send on his assignment, another email comes in. 

And Buck would ignore it if it was literally anyone else, but it’s not. It’s Eddie. So he sighs as if he can’t be bothered, even though no one is around to witness his performance, and he opens it up with a smile curling at the corners of his lips. 

_Buckley!_

_I didn’t mention this earlier because shit always changes around here, but it’s official now so I can finally celebrate! My tour is almost over, which means I’m coming home. My flight back to LA is booked for two weeks from yesterday, so I’ll be probably already be home by the time your slow ass replies to this._

_Anyway, I’ll be glued to Christopher’s side for the first couple days, but I was thinking we could grab a coffee after that? Let me know._

_Eddie._

Buck feels elated for a brief moment, and then very intensely confused. 

Because Eddie lives in Texas, it said so on his info card, and Buck distinctly remembers him talking about growing up there. But then he thinks back, remembers little bits of information that Eddie had dropped in, how his aunt lives in LA. Which means _Chris_ is in LA. And of course Christopher is home, so that means - 

Eddie is coming here. 

Buck would like to pretend that he’s completely nonchalant about the whole thing, but that would be a lie. He suddenly feels quite nauseous, actually. Because it was one thing for Buck to be in love with Eddie when he was just a bunch of pixels on a screen, a pipe dream, someone that he could want but never have. 

And now, well. Buck still can’t _have_ him, the guy is straight - he has a _kid._ But Buck will have to see him, will have to spend time with him like he hasn’t been deceiving him this whole time. 

(He knows what Dr Copeland would say, that he’s not deceitful by not coming out to every person he meets, that he doesn’t owe them anything. But still.) 

He knows that, realistically, he could just say no. He doesn’t _have_ to meet with Eddie, in fact, he doesn’t even have to reply to him. Buck could just never reply again and pretend this whole thing never happened. But that’s really not very brave of him, it goes against the way he tries to throw himself into everything. 

And, more than that, he could never do that to Eddie. 

Eddie, who’s given Buck the confidence to say and do things he never would have before, who’s given him the confidence to be a version of himself that he didn’t even know existed. 

Eddie, who sleeps on the right side of the bed, and loves bananas but hates banana flavoured things, and who told Buck his biggest fears like Buck was worthy of hearing them. 

Yeah, Buck could never deny Eddie anything. 

_Eddie,_

_That’s amazing news, man! I’m so happy for you. I bet Christopher’s face lights up like a Christmas tree when he sees you again._

_Just let me know when and where, and I’ll be there._

_Buck._

For the next two weeks, Buck feels like he’s vibrating out of his skin. He’s excited, and nervous, and jittery to the point where everyone has noticed but no one dares ask him about it. 

Maddie corners him eventually, of course, and he confesses everything under very little duress. But after that he refuses to answer any questions about it, or acknowledge it at all, for that matter. 

His game plan is to pretend that it’s just not happening. When Eddie lets him know he’s leaving for the airport? Not happening. When Eddie finally texts him for the first time, letting Buck know he’s in LA? Not happening. 

It all works pretty well, in Buck’s opinion. That is, until the morning they’re supposed to meet. And suddenly Buck can’t pretend it’s not happening anymore, and he hasn’t mentally prepared for this at all. 

In fact, he vaguely resembles a headless chicken as he rushes around his apartment searching for the right jeans - no, not those ones - and then his keys - in the laundry basket - and then his shoes, which, they were exactly where he left them, actually. 

His brain is frazzled by the time he’s sitting down in the little hipster cafe with the great cinnamon buns. Eddie had asked Buck to pick, and this place is familiar enough that it almost gives him a home court advantage, or something. 

He’s got a mouthful of coffee when Eddie walks through the door, and Buck almost chokes on it. 

Because no picture, no blurry FaceTime image, could ever do this man justice. There’s no other word for him except _beautiful._ The sun clings to him and makes his skin look like it’s glowing, make his eyes look almost golden, makes the smile he gives Buck when he notices him almost blinding. 

Buck stands up to meet him, and he’s not expecting it when Eddie pulls him into a hug right in the middle of the cafe. But Eddie is sun-warmed and smells good, and god, Buck is so in love with him it hurts. So he hugs back just as tight, revels in the feel of Eddie’s heart beating against his chest - the only sign that he’s as nervous about this as Buck is. 

“Hi, Evan,” Eddie says, his voice like liquid gold. 

“Hi Eddie,” Buck replies. “It’s good to see you.” 

“I can’t believe I’m finally here.”

“I’m glad you are,” Buck confesses. 

Buck doesn’t let go until Eddie does, and then they’re sitting down and laughing, and Buck doesn’t know how he’s ever supposed to look away from this man in front of him. But Eddie doesn’t stop looking either, keeps his eyes fixed on Buck and touches him so casually - his arm, shoulder, knee. 

Buck can’t breathe. 

He can hardly even remember what they talk about, isn’t sure how he manages to carry the conversation at all, really. He’s just mesmerised, can’t believe that Eddie is actually here, in front of him, instead of separated by a phone screen and 8000 miles. 

“But yeah, he’s glad I’m home, even though it was definitely not cool that I surprised him and made him cry in front of his friends,” Eddie chuckles. 

“Man, Chris seems like the coolest kid in the world,” Buck says, and he means it too. 

“Oh he absolutely is,” Eddie agrees. “But you can’t let him hear that, because his ego is already big enough as it is.”

It leaves Buck breathless, how easy it is to talk to Eddie. And he shouldn’t be surprised by now, because he’s found that every step of the way - first the emails, and then the FaceTime calls. So he probably should have been expecting it, but it still catches him by surprise how natural it feels to be here with him, talking and joking like they’ve been doing this their whole lives. 

And Buck thinks his life would probably be very different right now, if Eddie had been in it from the start. Yet he can’t bring himself to regret a single thing that’s happened in his life, not if it’s lead him to this moment, right here. He couldn’t regret this for anything. 

“So, are you gonna show me your apartment then?” Eddie asks, once they’ve finished their coffees. “It’s just, I’m used to military bases or kids toys everywhere, no in between. _And,_ I distinctly remember you challenging me to a game of Mario Kart.”

And Buck can’t argue with that, really. 

Which is how they end up on Buck’s couch, elbowing and shoving each other to try and gain the upper hand. 

Naturally, Buck and Princess Peach win, because they are superior. 

“Nooo,” Eddie groans. “That’s hardly fair, I haven’t played it in months! I demand a rematch!”

“It’s okay, Eddie. You can admit that it’s because you’re old,” Buck teases. 

The way Eddie’s jaw drops is absolutely worth it, even if it ends with him pinning Buck to the couch while he tickles him mercilessly. Buck can’t breathe through laughing, and he can’t move either, because Eddie is exactly as strong as he looks - which is to say, _very._

“Okay, okay,” Buck pants. “I give up, you win.”

“Yeah?” Eddie asks. 

He’s sitting on Buck with one leg on either side of his hips, his hands pinning Buck’s wrists to the couch while he hovers over him, smiling. 

And Buck still can’t breathe, but it has nothing to do with the tickling this time. Eddie’s eyes are dark and wide, and they flicker to Buck’s mouth when he swipes his tongue along his lips. 

The moment feels so heavy, so loaded that Buck is afraid to move in case he breaks it. 

But then, ever so slowly, Eddie lets go of his wrists. He trails his hands down Buck’s arms and over his shoulders, and Buck can’t help the gasp that slips past his lips when Eddie cups his face between his hands. 

His bones feel like they’re made of glass as Eddie touches him, his finger tips so gentle it’s like he knows that Buck will shatter if he isn’t careful. All Buck can think is _finally,_ and he knows Eddie can feel it in the way Buck leans into him, desperate, searching for more. 

“Can I kiss you?” Eddie asks. 

“Please,” Buck says, breathless. 

Eddie leans forwards agonisingly slowly, and when they finally kiss it feels holy, like he’s tasting God between Eddie’s lips, like he’s made of something divine and it’s making Buck unravel, come undone in the most beautiful of ways. 

The push and pull of their lips is slow and reverent, like they’re taking the time to worship each other in the way they both deserve. 

Buck feels like he’s in heaven. 

And later, when they’re curled up under Buck’s covers, their skin still slick with sweat, the illusion doesn’t shatter. The light in Eddie’s eyes doesn’t fade, and he doesn’t pull away, or leave, and Buck feels like this might actually be real. 

“I’ve wanted to do that for as long as I’ve known you,” Eddie confesses, his lips moving against the shell of Buck’s ear. 

“I can’t believe it,” Buck says. “I never thought you’d, I don’t know. Want this.”

Eddie laughs then, uses his hand to tilt Buck’s chin up so they’re looking at each other. He presses a gentle to kiss to Buck’s lips. 

“Buck, the first time I saw you, you literally thought the connection had frozen because I couldn’t look away,” Eddie says, laughing. 

“What?” Buck asks, breathless with the shock of hearing that. 

“I couldn’t believe you were so amazing, _and_ you looked like this,” Eddie answers, running his hand over Buck’s chest for emphasis. 

Buck shivers at the touch, then he curls into Eddie, presses a kiss to his pulse point just hear the way it makes him sigh. 

“I can’t believe this is even real,” Buck says. 

And it feels like the scariest thing he’s ever said. He feels like his whole heart is on show for Eddie to see, like there’s no mistaking it now, exactly how much Buck adores him. 

“I’m real, mi amor. I’m real and I’m not going anywhere,” Eddie promises. 

They lie in silence for a while, just soaking in the moment, enjoying the way their skin feels pressed together and how this is the happiest both of them have felt in a very long time. 

Buck knows they both have baggage - a hell of a lot more than most people, really. And he knows that there are so many things he hasn’t told Eddie, so many things that he needs to know if he ever wants to fully understand Buck. But as he looks up at him, only to find that Eddie is already looking back, it feels like they have all the time in the world for those kinds of things. For now, they get to just enjoy each other. 

“You know, Christopher and I are going out for dinner tonight,” Eddie says. “I’d love if it you would come.”

“You want me to meet your son?”

“Of course,” Eddie says, like it’s the most obvious thing in the world. 

“I’d love to,” Buck tells him. 

He thinks that he’ll probably love everything that involves Eddie. And he thinks that’s probably going to be the rest of his life.

**Author's Note:**

> Content warning: contains religious, specifically catholic, guilt. Internalised homophobia. Brief mentions of conversion therapy but no explicit details.


End file.
